


Seventh Day

by BlackVelvet42



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Caretaker, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 12:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21197720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/pseuds/BlackVelvet42
Summary: "In the middle of action, it had been difficult to grasp how thoroughly their situation had changed in just a few days, but sitting alone by her desk, going through the events to create a coherent narrative, the harsh truths became all too obvious."





	Seventh Day

**Author's Note:**

> Kindest thank you, Caladenia, for the beta extraordinaire.

* * *

On the evening of the seventh day, he caught her crying.

It was nothing more than a tear, really, shed in the solitude of her ready room, the first and last for all they had lost, but a sign of weakness nonetheless, revealing a crack in the armor she was quickly growing dependent on.

She wiped her cheek, then pushed a stray hair behind her ear to mask the motion. Not that she truly believed the gesture would fool her newly assigned first officer. Everything she had learned about him from his files and actions and the passion he kept under tight control told her that he was both intuitive and sharp. 

Standing by the doors, he was far away from her, but the fact that she was sitting by herself on the couch so late after her shift without so much as a PADD in hand as distraction spoke loud and clear of her state of mind. And somehow the moment was more crushing than the entire week so far.

∞

Early in the afternoon, the Kazon had retreated, no doubt to plan the next attack. After the systems checks were complete, she had finally found the time to retreat to her ready room and catch up with her reports. In the middle of action, it had been difficult to grasp how thoroughly their situation had changed in just a few days, but sitting alone by her desk, going through the events to create a coherent narrative, the harsh truths became all too obvious.

She willed away the images of Mark and her family forming in her head at the last word in her report - ‘home’ - and turned her attention to the list of casualties. Names, both Starfleet and Maquis, swam in front of her eyes and despite knowing not one of those deaths was directly her fault, she couldn’t shake the feeling that each was now permanently burned into her conscience.

The time with her crew had been so very short. She knew most of the deceased only by rank and name, their faces already beginning to blur. Without a personal connection, writing a mention in their records wasn’t easy. Every sentence felt superficial and insincere, almost an insult, like the last betrayal of the men and women she hadn’t been able to save. 

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead to regain clarity.

Maybe attempting to check this duty off her list before sleep was a poor idea. The day had been long, and her mind was tired. Tuvok was right. What she really needed was rest. But the dead stared at her on the screen and her inspiring words on the bridge earlier echoed in her ears as hollow as the ones she had just typed.

With her ship-wide speech, she had earned her pips all over again, fulfilling the role expected of her with flying colors. Chin up and shoulders straight, voice firm and resolute, she had delivered uplifting thoughts carefully chosen to unite two crews behind a single goal. She had described the challenges waiting for them, but also her solid belief in their success, that a hundred and fifty-two brilliant minds working together on Starfleet’s most technologically advanced starship would find a way to reach Earth.

In her heart, she knew her speech was a beautiful pack of lies.

They knew nothing of this quadrant, their base and backup were over seventy-five thousand light years away. Even if the Kazon did turn out too hot-headed and unorganized to pose a real threat, who would be next? The news of valuable technology had the tendency to spread fast, and even the worst of enemies could join forces to attain what they craved. Voyager was but one ship and she only one captain.

She’d never felt so small.

She walked to the couch and sank down, curling her legs under her. Staring out at the passing stars made no difference to her mood, the foreign constellations merely highlighting her sense of loneliness and the weight of her responsibilities.

All her life, she had wanted to reach the stars, see what lay beyond them. Death came hand in hand with exploration, she knew that, and everyone on board had accepted the risks along with their assignments. But what she had done, single-mindedly, had pushed everyone way past that point, and the price they had to pay for her call was incomprehensible.

They were no longer explorers. They were a lost crew, surviving for as long as they could.

The prospect of seeing their families again was most likely nothing more than a dream, Earth soon but a fading memory. No matter how advanced, Voyager was still only a starship, never meant for lifelong travel. It was susceptible to malfunctions and outside danger, the close quarters aggravating the burden of their long journey. And if the future ahead was to be locked in battle, living on to another morning the best they could hope, how long would any of them truly last?

Without options, they would eventually learn to work together, of course they would. They would turn to each other for closeness and support, forge new bonds to replace the ones left behind, but whatever comfort they would find would always be shadowed by the knowledge that tomorrow could tear the mirage of happiness apart.

That was when the stars turned blurry, tears prickling behind her eyelids. Alone and exhausted, she allowed the unfairness of it all to wash over her. 

A single tear rolled down her cheek, slowly, as if knowing there would not be another one for as long as she breathed. There could not. Because for the rest of her life, she would be a captain and nothing else, owing this crew more than she could ever give, and captains didn’t have the luxury of sorrow or defeat.

The sound of the doors startled her back to the present, momentarily catching her defenseless and bare.

Her greeting came out strained, her smile forced. With unnamed fears filling her chest, she watched him walk closer.

Whatever he had meant to see her for, died on his lips at the sight of her. Instead, he sat quietly next to her, far enough to retain a formal distance, and kept his focus on his hands without making eye-contact. And once she realized his intent, she was grateful, so grateful, for the compassion embedded in that gesture.

One look into her eyes would have dragged her vulnerability into the open, ripping to shreds something she valued even more than her privacy: her need to uphold the image of a leader, of unwavering confidence, resilience, and strength. How he managed to show her so much consideration while gifting her his understanding was simply a miracle.

His presence was powerful but soothing, devoid of any demands. Nothing in him indicated he wanted anything else than to be with her in this moment, sharing the overwhelming realities of an existence they were only beginning to comprehend. And after an eternity measured solely by the loud beating of her heart, he moved his hand to lay on the couch between them, palm open.

A fresh sting of tears threatened to break free.

No one else could have done this for her. No one knew her well enough or no one would have dared. Even Tuvok would have filled the void with logic and wisdom, attempting to give her turbulent emotions meaning and help light a path forward.

Yet there was this man, barely more than a stranger, instinctively offering her what she most needed.

Reassurance. Balance. Warmth.

All flowing from his silent presence and filling her with his strength when hers was depleted.

She slid her hand in his and breathed in deeply, taking what he offered without question.

Not a word was spoken, not a glance exchanged. His fingers closed around hers, gentle, almost protective, and settled there, as an anchor back to the world of possibilities. When he got up and left, she found his peace remained within her, making the universe a little less complicated, her journey ahead a little more hopeful.

She stayed seated for a long time, thinking about coincidence and probability, fate and luck; about a man like him entering her life at the same moment she was faced with the unimaginable.

* * *


End file.
